


everything is perfect -- nothing's real

by StrangerInAStrangeLand



Category: Doctor Strange (2016), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Confessions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Not Canon Compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 02:27:59
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 18,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20631581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrangerInAStrangeLand/pseuds/StrangerInAStrangeLand
Summary: The Sorcerer Supreme is dying and Tony Stark only has a few weeks to save him before his world comes to a close. Meanwhile, Stephen Strange is lost in a comatose dream, and the more time he stays there, the more his grip on reality is tarnished.





	everything is perfect -- nothing's real

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah, this is probably the longest thing i've ever written thus far. i actually didn't expect it to become this long, it sort of just…happened. 
> 
> i wanna appreciate the creators of the Ironstrange Big Bang for organizing the entire event, as well as @captain-carol-danvrrs.tumblr.com, who is the artist of the lovely art accompanying this fix [not yet posted], and @strangemischief.tumblr.com for being my alpha/beta reader. 
> 
> without further ado, sit back, relax, and allow me to present a fix 4 months in the making.

At first glance, the Sanctum Sanctorum was threatening. It was a huge, mystical structure that housed one of the most powerful sorcerers in New York City. It was mysterious, nestled in-between the corners of a few humble apartment complexes. Behind the arched door was an immeasurable amount of oddities that the mere mortal eye could not bare to comprehend.   
  
To Tony Stark, however, it was simply a barrier between him and facing the music.   
  
From the moment he stepped out of his car, it was an endless cycle between analyzing the building and looking at his watch. His eyes traced the Agamotto outline countless times, his train of thought wandering mindlessly as he permanently imprinted the image in his mind. It took him 5 minutes to muster the ability to walk towards the door. It took him 10 more minutes to raise his hand to knock. 

Throughout this tedious process, he kept trying to look for a way to escape. He waited for one of his teammates to call him away from the house and to his next mission, or for some kind of explosion to happen in Brooklyn that warranted his attention. But nothing came.    
  
Stalling. What he was doing was stalling. And he knew exactly what he was doing. After a few more minutes of staring at the door, Tony's hand fell at his side, eliciting a groan.

“What’s wrong with me?” He sighed, shaking his head. 

Stephen had been ignoring him for a week now. He never looked him in the eye, never gave him the time of day, never even acknowledged his existence. Well, enough was enough, Tony decided. He had to talk to him someday. Might as well rip off the bandage now before anything got out of hand. 

He knocked on the door. No response. That was weird. 

“Really, Strange?” He asked. Granted, he didn’t know for sure if Stephen was actually in the Sanctum at the time, but he was frustrated enough all ready. 

He knocked again. Once again, he was met with silence. He slid a hand down his face with a heavy groan. 

“You can’t avoid me forever!” He yelled, as if it would unlock the door. 

Usually, this would've been enough of an excuse for him to bail. If Stephen wasn’t going to speak to him, why should he stay? He could run back to his car and drive away before Stephen had a chance to open the door. 

But for some reason, he didn’t. The very thought of running away now made his heart feel heavy. Perhaps it was because facing the conflict would be inevitable at one point or another. It would just be a cowardly move to run away now. That, and he’d been stalling himself for 15 minutes and he didn’t want to explain how he was wasting his time. 

Well, guess it was his job to take initiative. 

Taking a deep breath, he closed his eyes, grabbed the door handle, and shoved the door open. Once he saw the intimidatingly wicked interior of the house, though, he removed the scowl from his face and replaced it with a smarmy smirk.    
  
"Hey Sabrina, Cap sent me to pick you up. He's begging to know how you keep the rabbit in your hat,” he grinned to himself, awaiting a classic snarky response. However, he was met with complete and utter silence.

Was he in today? No, he had to be in today. Since when did he take days off? 

“But seriously, I want to talk to you, and you’re an Avenger now so you have to listen to me, so can you just get your magical ass over here?”

No response. Not even a retort. Huh. 

Tony started walking through the Sanctum, examining each relic and artifact that crossed his path. Maybe if he fiddled long enough, the wizard would finally come out of hiding.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” he chanted, looking behind a dragonskin curtain. “This isn't funny, Strange!” 

Now it was getting weird. He knew Stephen couldn't stand him (the feeling was mutual) but he didn't expect to be given the silent treatment. 

“Are-Are you actually ignoring me?” He called out. The only voice that came back was his echo through the empty Sanctum. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he sighed. “If this is about last month, I swear to God...Fine, if you don't want to look me in the eye, then I'll be the bigger man and start talking.”

He gave Stephen a few more final seconds to respond, but once again, was met with lonely silence. Memories began to pour through his mind and out his mouth as he tried to talk to the invisible wizard.   
  
“About that night. First thing's first, don't tell Wong about it. And Wong if you're listening to this, I'm sorry. Second of all, it was nothing, okay? It was just a few drinks, I was tipsy. I say and do weird shit when I'm tipsy. And you shouldn't judge me on weird shit anyways, 9/10 times you're up to some weird shit over here. And even then, at least I still make sense.”

Not a single word. 

“God, you're probably meditating or some shit. You know what, I'll just come back tomorrow--”

Cue the magical ring. As if on schedule, an orange circle appeared in the middle of the Sanctum, alerting Tony's attention. He looked to the ceiling as the portal opened, knowing that he'd soon be face to face with Stephen. 

He momentarily argued whether he should run away or not, but as the second passed before the ring opened, he found himself planted exactly where he was. This was it. This was the moment.

However, instead of seeing the usual blue-robed sorcerer fall through the portal, he watched as Wong landed into the Sanctum, clutching a limp body in his arms.

_ “Wh-?!” _

His eyes widened as shock paralyzed his body. A shiver ran up his spine as the sorcerer's bruised body tumbled to the floor. Dumbfounded, he opened his mouth and just let a whole string of words flow out.

“WHAT THE  ** _FUCK_ ** ?!” 

Don't hyperventilate, don't panic, don’t freak out. There had to be a reasonable explanation for this. He hurried over to check Stephen's injuries. Wong looked up, startled by the sudden yell.

“Stark?” Wong inquired, out of breath. His voice was hushed, almost a whisper, but there was still some noticeable panic. 

Tony didn't know what to say. Was it too early to give his condolences? He examined Stephen's unconscious body, surprised by his pale skin and pained expression, and almost choked when he got an eyeful of blood seeping through his robe around his torso. He ran his hand over a fresh scar that danced on the man's cheek. His head shot up and he looked into Wong's eyes, desperate for an explanation.

“What the  _ hell _ happened?"    


* * *

When Stephen woke up, something felt...odd.   


Light shimmered from his bedroom window, dancing across his face, signaling him that it was time to wake up. As he rose from his bed, the world seemed to rise with him. His vision settled as he watched the morning flood the room, the same room he had slept in for years.    
  
And yet, a feeling of unfamiliarity resonated inside him.    
  
He blinked, stationary in bed. He examined the room, unsure if he was still asleep or awake. Nothing was different, from what he could see. It was all the same: same walls, dresser, windows, curtains, mirror. It was the same exact image that began and ended his day.    
  
He shook his head with a sigh, dismissing the idea in a second. He was being ludicrous! There was nothing wrong. Maybe he was just tired. He always needed coffee in the morning. He took off the covers and tried to get out of bed. The key word being  _ tried _ , as he felt another peculiar notion that something was amiss once he got up.    
  
He felt unbalanced as he got up. It was like the world was trying to pull him down. Everything just had this strange semblance to it that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. It wasn’t the strange where he would find a monster in his reflection, or a flurry of phantoms in his attic. It was more like the subtle kind of strange, the type of strange that only few could recognize within his house. 

It was as if someone snuck into his closet while he was sleeping and rearranged all the shoes. Or if someone added small pieces of tape to his mirrors for no discernable reason. Or if someone had painted his interior just a slightly lighter shade of black. It was the weird, harmless changes that didn’t affect his life in anyway, but still caught him off guard. 

It was strange in the sense that everything was the same and he knew everything was the same...but he still felt like something was different. It was almost like reality had been warped, but only by a slight fraction. 

His head spun as he analyzed the room from head to toe. He swore to God that everything was where it was supposed to be. But he felt like he was in a whole different world. 

A doorbell disrupted his thoughts in an instant. Hastily putting on a shirt, Stephen yelled out a rushed "coming!" as he hurried towards the door. Maybe whoever was visiting him could tell him why everything was weird. Better yet, they could ground him back to reality.

When he opened the door, none of his questions were answered.    
  
“Hi, Stephen,” a familiar, yet unfamiliar voice chimed in. “I was afraid you overslept. Are you alright?” 

In his doorway was a beautiful nurse, dressed in semi-casual clothes, holding a brown paper bag. Her hair was tied in a dainty bun, though a few locks fell behind her ear. A smile danced on her face almost unnaturally.   
  
"Ch-Christine?” The name fluttered on his lips, sounding abnormal. It was an unusual sound, as if he hadn’t said that name in days, or weeks, or months. But that couldn’t be, right? She was still the same Christine Palmer he knew and loved. So why did everything feel so...so off? “What are you doing here?"   
  
"Um, dropping off your food?” She replied, pushing the bag to his chest. “I know, I know, you're fine with granola bars or whatever, but the nights are getting later and I wanted you to stay healthy--"

Stephen disregard the bag almost immediately as a surge of energy overwhelmed him. He suddenly clutched Christine's wrists and began letting a waterfall of words flow out of his mouth.

"Christine, I know you probably don't understand, but I swear I'll tell you all about this soon. Magic is dangerous, and I'm sorry for never telling you, but--"

"Magic?” Christine cut him off with a chortle. “Is that Donna's new hobby now?”

Donna. That was a name he hadn't heard in a long time. 

A thousand memories of his sister swam through his brain. Now he really thought he was crazy. How could he forget his own sister's name? And what the hell was he talking about? Magic? He never did a single magic trick in his entire life. What were these sudden false memories? 

“I--” 

“How long was your shift again?” She interjected, placing a soft hand on his cheek. She took his chin and examined his face. “Jesus Christ, I'm telling you, you need to take better care of yourself. I know you're a doctor, but--" 

A doctor...doctor...doctor?    
  
"What?...I-I'm still a....?" Stephen looked down and was met with an oddly unfamiliar sight.

His hands...were  _ perfect _ . Clean, smooth, undamaged skin. Not a tremor in sight. He held his hands in front of his face, examining each and every detail of his flawless palms.   
  
"...Hello? Doctor Sanders?” He was brought back to reality by his... _ girlfriend _ waving her hand in front of his face. “Are you still there?"    
  
"Sanders?" Stephen asked. He knew that was his name, but it just sounded... _ wrong, _ for some reason.    
  
"Yeah? Stephen Sanders?" Christine questioned, brushing off his confusion with a chuckle. "My boyfriend? World-renowned neurosurgeon? Stubborn asshole who never wants to sleep?"

Stephen still felt astonished. He felt like he was trapped in some sort of dream, but he didn't know why. This was his life, right? Everything was perfect. Everything was normal. 

In the midst of his silent pondering, Christine wrapped her arm around his. "So, are we carpooling or what? You promised you'd play some more AC/DC or whatever you're into. I don't really listen to it. I just love it when you're happy."

He looked over at Christine and felt entranced by her bright smile. She looked so beautiful...so happy. 

She loved him. She honest-to-god loved him. And he loved her back. 

It couldn't have been a dream -- dreams were never  _ this _ good.    
  
"Same here," Stephen replied, placing a loving hand on hers. With a peaceful grin, he escorted her to his sports car.

"Let's go."    


* * *

The next day, Tony and Wong managed to hospitalize Stephen before he could bleed out. Tony bought out a room to contain him long enough so they could identify what was going on. But knowing Stephen, what was going on could be anything. And it was probably something he didn’t even understand. He watched attentively as Wong inspected his body. 

"Lotuses," Wong diagnosed, examining a red section of Stephen's head. "They're Lotuses."

He set Stephen’s frail hand onto the hospital cot. A flurry of pink, flowery dots had spread across his skin like a rash. Tony eyed the pattern and cringed.    
  
"Wow. I never thought flowers could be this dangerous."    
  
Wong rolled his eyes at the comment and continued. "They’re dream-seekers. Mind demons. They feed on vulnerability. Play on your deepest desires. Trap you in your wildest dreams. Right now, as long as he's in a coma, he won't want to wake up."

His wildest dreams, huh? Well, for a man that's travelled the most imaginative dimensions in the multiverse, that could be anything. He could be dreaming of a kingdom of gold crowning him their new leader. He could be dreaming of kicking some hot alien ass like any other day of the week. He could be dreaming of eating some actual quality food instead of the same deli sandwiches and instant ramen every day.   
  
Tony looked at the unconscious sorcerer again. He didn’t seem to be in any pain at the moment. In fact, his expression seemed almost...peaceful. Well, it wasn’t the worst thing that could've happened. 

“What about the injury?” His eyes trailed towards the hole covered by Stephen's robes. On his first glance, he noticed the odd mix of colors that surrounded the injury. Almost like he was bleeding out the galaxy. “And the multi-colored blood?"   
  
"All he told me was that he was going on a trip," Wong stated, looking over Stephen's body. "When I found him, he was already bleeding out. There was nothing there that could’ve attacked him. It was the most peaceful dimension either of us had ever seen. We both knew that.” 

He brushed his hand over Stephen's forehead, saddened by his friends' weakened state. But he was even more saddened by the fact that he was keeping something from him. Tony placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, before examining a wound near Stephen’s abdomen. 

“What about that. Why isn’t the skin sealing up?”

“Some kind of bite, I presume...I can counteract it with just enough magic," Wong rose a hand to heal some of the damage for the moment. 

However, when Tony looked at the wound even more, he noticed that it looked less like a monster bite and more like a stab wound. He didn't recall Wong mentioning anything that could've stabbed Stephen by any chance. 

“Could he have...stabbed himself?” Tony asked, out of the blue. 

Wong contemplated the thought momentarily as he continued healing Stephen's wounds. He looked up at Tony, worriedly glaring at him. 

“Why would he do that?” 

That was a question Tony didn't have the answer to. Stephen was as strong-willed as a tiger. Why would he want to kill himself? Guess he could disregard that thought entirely. 

“Does he need surgery?” He changed the subject. 

Wong shook his head, not taking his eyes off the cut. “I can heal him to the best of my abilities. What he needs is a therapy session.”

Bewilderment flashed on Tony’s face. “A..._therapy_ _session_?” 

What did therapy have to do with all of this magic mumbo-jumbo? 

“Mind demons take advantage of your darkest, most traumatic experiences and insecurities. They’ll give you a world beyond your wildest dreams. They’ll bow to your deepest desires so you will never leave their influence. If we’re able to narrow down his insecurities, we might be able to save him from inside.”

“You mean, within the dream?”

“That’s what “saving him from inside” means," Wong shrugged. "I got a small glimpse of what Stephen was like before becoming the Sorcerer Supreme...but since then, he’s changed. Perhaps for the better. But...I know at least one person who might be able to assist us.”

Tony eyed him curiously. Then he looked over at Stephen's limp, slowly dying body. He may not understand any of this, but if it meant saving the Sorcerer Supreme, then so be it. He looked back at Wong. 

“Who might that be?”

* * *

“Well, would you look at that,” Christine said, reading an online article. “Dr. Van Dyne is building the first ever fully sentient robot. That shouldn't backfire at all."   
  
Intrigued, Stephen looked over at Christine’s phone. On her screen was a headline that declared  **'Professor Van Dyne plans to initiate Project ULTRON this winter'** in bold, eye-catching letters. 

"Ultron?" He asked out loud. 

“That’s what they’re calling it. She says it’s “meant to guard and protect New York”. Like we’re gonna depend on a  _ toaster _ to keep us safe,” she snarked. 

The two had decided to use their Friday off wisely. Instead of going to some fancy restaurant or expensive show, they just wanted to have a little stroll in the park as they watched the sunset. Though he believed he’d done this exact date many times before, Stephen couldn’t help but feel like this time was unique. Like he hadn’t done it in a long, long time. 

He welcomed the change. He embraced the lazy feeling in his soul. He enjoyed Christine holding onto his arm as they walked along Central Park. It felt like the first relaxed week he had in awhile. 

As they roamed through the park, Stephen noticed that New York seemed...different than what he remembered. They passed by the memorial for Steve Rogers, acclaimed World War II soldier...and nothing more. The man’s shield rested on his tombstone, marked with its well-known stars and stripes. But he wasn’t hailed as a “superhero” of any sort. He was just a normal soldier. 

He also noticed the small workplace of Dr. Bruce Banner, renowned therapist. But he, for the life of him, couldn’t remember than name being attributed to any therapist. He didn’t understand why his brain was forgetting random details of the world. Something about these names and these occupations just didn’t feel...right. 

Christine paused in the middle of the sidewalk, looking off to the sky as she sighed. Stephen followed her gaze, trying to distract himself from his thoughts, and saw the beautiful orange, purple, and pink palette as the sun began to descend.

This is what he should be focusing on. This beautiful, natural, lovely sunset at the end of a wonderful day. Christine took his arm and wrapped it around her shoulders and beamed. 

"It's beautiful, isn't it?" 

But in the distance of the falling sunset, a flaming head began to rise. A flaming, monstrous, demonic head that brought forth a nightmarish iris sky, clouded in a hellish galaxy of its own. Stephen gazed at the mural in all its glory, dumbfounded by what he was seeing. However, he was more dumbfounded by the fact that it seemed so...familiar, yet unfamiliar. 

It was an otherworldly concept only conceivable in the dreamscape. So what was it doing here, when he was wide awake?

“Stephen? Stephen Sanders?” 

Christine tugged on his sleeve. When Stephen looked down at his arm, he swore for a split-second that he was wearing a long, blue robe. She eyed him with concern and gripped his hand. 

“Are you okay?”

Stephen looked at her and her beautiful, honest face. It couldn’t have been real. It couldn’t have. Not when he lived in such a normal, perfect world such as this. 

“I-I’m fine, Christine,” he said. As long as he said he was fine, he’d be fine. “I was just...watching the sunset.” 

Christine cocked her head to the side, not believing his hectic statement. 

"You look tired," She said. "C'mon, I'll walk you home." 

He couldn't really argue with that. Maybe he was just seeing things. Maybe he'd been working too long. 

When looked back hp at the sky, he was met with a blazing orange glow. And once again, it was a wonderfully tranquil sunset with no demonic head in sight.

"It couldn't have been real…" He muttered to himself as he walked with Christine.

* * *

"Dr. Christine Palmer," Tony greeted, extending his hand as the nurse walked into the room. 

"Tony Stark,” she replied, shaking his hand. She glanced over at the bed where the unconscious sorcerer rested. “So, what's the issue?"

“I need to know about Stephen.”

The doctor stepped back, tipping her head to the side. 

“...You  _ what _ ?”   


“I need to know about Stephen,” Tony repeated. “His worst secrets, his deepest anxieties, anything. What do you know?”

She glared at him as if he was crazy.    


“...you told me you were trying to  _ save _ Stephen, right?”

“Yes!” He exclaimed. “It’s a long story, but I need to know everything about him. His insecurities, his doubts, his anxieties…”

“So you called me in to be Stephen’s  _ therapist _ ?”

“Basically.”

Silence pricked the air between them. After a few moments, Christine sighed and shook her head. 

“What’s he gotten into this time?”

“Uhh…” Tony drifted, trying to find the right words. “Evil flowers that put him in a coma.”

“And why do you need me to tell you his trauma?”

“Because I need to go into his mind and tell him to wake up.”

The glare returned to her face as she grumbled a swear. Tony knew she thought he was crazy, but he also knew she needed to help him. He opened his mouth to try and further explain the explanation, but her glare subsided when she took sight of Stephen’s vulnerable state. Her eyes softened as she slowly walked towards her fallen friend. 

“Oh, Stephen…what have you done?” She asked him, brushing her hand on her face. 

She pondered on his state for a few moments, before screwing her eyes shut. She huffed, still hesitant over whether to trust Tony or not, and turned around. 

“Can I trust you?”

“Dr. Palmer, I’ve been working for days to try and save Stephen,” he affirmed. “I can assure to you that everything you say to me will stay confidential.” 

She went quiet once again. She looked at Stephen, then at Tony, then back at Stephen. Eventually, she made up her mind. 

“Okay,” she replied, her voice wavering. “I’ll do it.” 

Tony smiled in appreciation and directed her towards a few chairs in the room. Christine sat down, still keeping her eyes on Stephen’s bed. 

“He hasn’t talked to me in years, but I still remember what he’s told me about his family.”

Tony never thought Stephen would care about family. In fact, he never even mentioned his family at any point. 

“He became a doctor to save people because he wanted to save his family,” she started. “But from the looks of things, he couldn’t even save himself. He was always sort of reserved, like he didn’t want to talk to anyone. He had this charm, though, this analytical charm. Like he knew everything about you. Like he knew exactly how you felt or why you were feeling a certain way. Guess he was so good at disguising his own emotions that he learned how to decipher others. He’s smart like that. Always has to be the smartest person in the room.”

“Do you know why he would want to run away?” Tony brought up. “Or, for that matter, try to...kill himself?” He almost tried to restrain himself from mentioning that. He didn’t want to think Stephen would actually try to do that. 

Christine frowned at him, concern threading her face. He immediately shook his head, disregarding the notion in a second, and gestured for her to continue. 

“He always felt like he wasn’t enough,” she said. “He always felt like he disappointed everyone, no matter what he did or how well he did it. He said he lost his family when he was 19 and since then, he's always blamed himself for it. He doesn’t like to talk about his feelings with anyone. He just ends up keeping them in until he explodes.”

Tony took her words into consideration and tried to find a conclusion. 

“He’s scared of being vulnerable?”

“I guess you could put it like that,” She shrugged. “How about you? How do you know Stephen? Aside from the obvious, that is.”

“Well, we work together,” Tony explained. He paused, thinking over his words. “Occasionally.”

Christine crossed her arms and cocked her head to the side. Tony could tell that that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. It wasn’t like a normal coworker would just spend an entire week trying to rescue a random comatose acquaintance. 

“I’ve joined him on certain missions before,” he continued. “I’ll admit, he’s a pretty cool wizard when he’s in action, but I never really thought about him as a friend. I just snark at him, and he snarks back, you know?” 

“Hmmm…” The doctor inquired, still believing there was more to the store. “If you don’t think about him as a friend, then why are you doing all of...this?” She motioned around the room. 

Tony went quiet. He reflected on his words, his memories, but didn’t say a word. He never told anyone about how he and Stephen  _ really _ “met”, nor did he want to. But it was about time he faced the music. 

“It was at a gala,” he revealed, accompanied with a huff. “He was just standing on the balcony, watching the stars, and drinking some wine. And y’know, I was hanging out with everyone else in our own little circle, so I tried to invite him. I just went up to him and asked if he wanted to join us.” 

As he recollected the encounter, he suddenly found himself back on the balcony. He imagined that he was standing under the stars, leaning next to Stephen, and chatting like they were old friends. 

“Then we started talking. I don’t know how we started talking or why we started talking, but it was a long night and we ended up spilling our entire life stories to each other somehow.” 

He remembered sharing a drink, a laugh, a story with the sorcerer. He remembered finding some odd sense of affinity with the man, like he was someone he knew his entire life. He remembered seeing Stephen smile for the first time, a smile that ignited his heart. He smiled as well, as if the dream was real. 

“And then we danced.”

He rose up his hand in the air, as if the hallucination was standing right in front of him. He waltzed around the room, trying to return to that night before any of this happened. 

Christine watched him with no words. 

“It was...weird,” Tony spoke up, letting the dance fade away. He stood, still as a board, as the dream fluttered out of his mind and disappeared without a trace. And then, it was just a memory. “I felt like I could tell this guy anything. Then he...he told me he loved me. And we kissed. I didn’t think much about it at the time -- we were drunk, it was a fling, whatever -- but then he started avoiding me.”

He looked at the ground and scowled. He felt like his heart could shatter to pieces as he recounted all the times Stephen brushed past him with his head held high. 

“He wouldn’t talk to me, he wouldn’t look at me, he’d barely acknowledge I existed in the same world as him,” he turned around, looking at the man himself resting on the mattress. “And then when I tried going to his Sanctum, suddenly I find him dying in his best friend’s arms.” 

Then it was back to silence. Tony turned back around, holding his head in his hand. He said too much. He said far, far too much. 

Christine walked up next to him. “And that’s why you called me here, right?” 

“Yup,” Tony replied nonchalantly. 

If he turned around, he would’ve seen a subtle smirk form on the doctor’s face. 

"You  _ like _ Stephen, don't you?" She asked, trying to disguise her slightly amused tone.    
  
He looked at her, blush forming on his face, and crossed his arms. "When he's not being a douchebag, maybe,” he deflected, cockiness returning in his voice.    
  
Christine smiled at him sympathetically. "You care about him a lot. I can tell. I used to be the same way. I worked with him, cared about him, and then eventually I started waking up next to him. He's an amazing guy: smart, hard-working, kinda cute,” she gazed at the bed. “I thought I loved him." 

He peered at her, raising an eyebrow.    
  
"Well, what happened?"

She hesitated for a moment, her gaze still focused on her unconscious ex. Slowly, she turned back to him as she contemplated her relationship.    
  
"...I  _ thought _ I loved him,” she answered. “And he thought he loved me. But turns out, we were both wrong. We just weren't cut out for each other. He had always put himself on this high pedestal. He didn't have time for anyone or anything that didn't pay him in the end. But I guess that's changed. We still love each other, I can feel it. But it's not like that. I don't know if it could ever be like that. Cause even now, he never tells me about the monsters or the demon flowers or when he's about to kill himself saving the damn world..."

Tony peered at her sympathetically, before his own thoughts about Stephen flooded his mind.    
  
"...What if you don't know if you love this guy?” He questioned, his mind quickly being clouded with worry. “What if...What if it was just that one night, and nothing else?"

He paused. Christine gestured for him to continue. 

"Go on."   
  
"I lo--” He paused. He couldn’t dedicate himself right now. Not when he doesn’t know if he even “loves” the damn guy. “I like him. I really do. I like talking to him. I like listening to him. I think that robe he always wears is kinda cool-looking sometimes. But...he's an idiot. We both are. I mean, he's obviously pretty smart, though probably not as smart as me, but...look at him. Look at me. I'm wasting hundreds of dollars on this guy in some incurable magical coma, and for what? So he can wake up and not thank me in the end? So he can just walk away without another word?"

Christine glanced at him, sympathy filling in her eyes. She searched for the right words to say, before holding onto Tony’s shoulder.    
  
"It's hard to understand, but you must really, really like someone if you're willing to do all that to save their life,” she noted. “So what if it was just one night? What about the several nights you've spent dedicating your time to him? I know Stephen, and I know that, in one way or another, he cares about people. He knows how people feel on the surgery table. So he probably cares about you."    
  
He contemplated her words for a bit. Christine knew Stephen better than either of them. Maybe she was right. Maybe Stephen really did care about him. Maybe their love wouldn’t just be a one night fling. 

He didn’t want to let himself feel hopeful, but his heart briefly fluttered at the thought of them dancing together once again. 

His thoughts were cut off, however, by a sudden surge of energy that rippled through the room. For a moment, the two of them floated in the air, encapsulated by some kind of magical energy, before colliding to the floor. 

“What’s happening?” Christine asked nervously as she picked herself up. 

He tried to respond, but then he heard a series of quick beeps coming from the nearby heart monitor. 

"...Strange?” He said, looking past Christine. “Strange?!"

Christine turned around, eyes widening once she saw the heart monitor. A solid, straight green line ran along the box, followed by one long, ear-shattering prolonged beep. She panickedly hurried to his bed and searched for some kind of defibrillators. 

Tony stood in the midst of the chaos. His heart stopped once he heard the flatlined signal. His head spun as he tried to process the situation. All he could remember in the middle of his distress was Christine’s horrified scream.    
  
" _ Stephen?! _ "    


* * *

"Christine, I need to deliver something. Can you give me a ride?" Stephen asked, holding a package in his hands. He noticed someone dropped it earlier that morning, but before he could find the deliverer, they had disappeared without a trace. Guess it was his job to deliver it now.    
  
"Mhm,” Christine mumbled, not looking up from her newspaper. “What's the address?"   
  
"177A Bleecker Street,” he said, reading the address printed on the box 

Stephen heard the sound of paper crinkling and looked up to see Christine eyeing him in confusion. 

“What?"   
  
"Where the hell is that?" She scoffed.    
  
"177A Bleecker Street?” He repeated. “Near the sandwich shop?"

Christine looked at him like he was crazy. And for a moment, Stephen thought he was. 

"I've never heard of that street in my life."

Stephen groaned. He didn’t have time for another internal breakdown.   
  
"Just put it into the GPS."

He watched Christine input the address into her phone and waited for her to validate him. He had so many memories of passing by 177A Bleecker Street. They couldn’t be fake, not this time. It had to be real, it just had to be! 

"Nope,” Christine suddenly declared, showing him her phone. “Doesn't exist here either.”

Shock crossed Stephen’s face as he took the phone into his hand and read the “No Search Results Found” text at the top of the page. But he could’ve sworn it existed. 

“I know I ask you this a lot, but are you okay?” Christine questioned, taking her phone back. “You seem to be kind of...off lately."

He didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t want to say he wasn’t okay, but he had to admit something felt off about the world. 

"I'm fine,” he responded, gripping the package. “I just...I just need to step outside. I'll be back in 20 minutes." 

Christine waved to him, but he couldn’t respond as he stumbled out the door. He walked through the streets, navigating his way through the crowded New York roads as he struggled to find 177A Bleecker Street. He traced the steps in his memories, seeking the street with all his power. 

But when he found the deli that was supposed to be right near the street, he couldn’t find anything else. He walked along the street in its place, counting the buildings along the sidewalk. Most of them were recognizably the same, at least, so he wasn’t completely tripping out. However, in the place of the wide, oddly-marked building in the middle of the street was a completely normal apartment complex. 

Though he knew this wasn’t the same building that was locked in his head, for some reason, he wasn’t able to remember what was supposed to be in its place. He gazed at the complex, studying it for multiple minutes to make sure it wasn’t the same structure he’d seen before. He could’ve sworn there was some sort of emblem etched onto the ceiling. 

First his hands, then that weird monster in the sunset, and now this street. A shiver ran up his spin as he momentarily humored the idea that he was, in fact, going crazy. But even if he was going crazy, he still had no idea what any of this meant. 

“I need to take a break…” he mumbled, grasping his forehead. He slowly walked away from the street, keeping himself from looking back, as he tried to find something to distract him from whatever was going on. But still, the street name constantly flickered throughout his brain.

He managed to make it to the library without losing his grip on reality. Maybe he could find something here to calm him down. He made his way through the library, searching through the endless array of books. It was quiet. Sensible. Almost every book detailing anything that's right with the world would be recorded here. Anything else was just pure fiction.    
  
As he strolled wordlessly through the aisles, wondering what he should read, the address began to follow him. 177A Bleecker Street. 177A Bleecker Street. 177A Bleecker Street. A street that seemingly didn’t exist, yet haunted his mind at the same time. It was like a leech. 

He skimmed through the bookcases, trying to find something to ease his mind for a few minutes. He needed something to latch onto, something that could ground him in reality and convince him he wasn’t crazy.    
  
Textbooks. Autobiographies. Novels. Science fiction. Mysteries. Thrillers. Fantasies. Fairy tales. Graphic novels. Comic books. Horrors. Out of all the books in the library, there ended up being only one book that caught his interest. Situated in-between a large cookbook and a series of essay compilations was a large, scarlet-covered journal adorned with golden accessories. He assumed it would be something creative or interesting.    
  
He was confused at first when he turned the book over and found the words "Norse Mythology" printed in bold, gray letters. It was...an interesting topic, to say the least. Nothing he’s ever been interested in. Nevertheless, he found himself reading. And reading. 

And reading. And suddenly, the world disappeared. 

The book drew him in with tales of myths, conquests and Gods. It was a make-believe fantasy that somehow entranced him like no other book had ever done before. But there was this one small fragment that caught his eye.    
  
"...Thor and Loki..."   
  
He lingered on this fragment for a minute. He didn't know why it seemed odd to be reading these names in a documentation of what was supposed to be fiction. For some reason, the names sounded oddly familiar. Not only that, but he felt like he had encountered these two in real life beforehand…   
  
"Stephen!"   
  
Suddenly, it was 5 pm. Stephen snapped out of his trance as Christine shook him back to reality.    
  
"Where were you?" She asked. "You haven't been answering my calls. You said you'd be back in 20 minutes!"

Stephen staggered out his chair, noticing the library was pretty much empty now. He slowly closed the book as Christine watched him.    
  
"I was just doing some light reading," he tried to explain.    
  
"Yeah. "Light" reading," Christine snarked, eyeing the huge book on the table. She grabbed his hand and made her way out the library. "Come on, we should go home."

As the two exited the building right before it closed, Stephen viewed the New York cityscape and noticed something was...off. Again. He stopped in his tracks and traced the buildings with his finger.    
  
"Wait."

Huffing, Christine turned on her heels and glared at Stephen. "What is it now?"    
  
"Where…" he stared at the skyline, searching for one building in particular. "Where's Stark Industries?"   
  
She shook her head and planted her face in her palm with a groan. "What are you talking about now?"   
  
"Stark Industries," he stated, pointing to the spot where the supposed enterprise resided. "It was right there!"

Christine didn't bother to look, however, and just clutched his arm and tried to pull him away.    
  
"Look, I don't know what you've been drinking, but how about we just take a walk in the park and get something to eat?"

Stephen didn't listen. He was still caught in his gaze, trying to convince himself that he wasn't just seeing things.    
  
"It was right there..."    
  
"That's Barnes Industries!" she yelled, finally at her limit. "Howard Stark gave up his industry to James Buchanan Barnes before he died. Did you fail history or something?"   
  
"Then where's Tony?" Stephen shot back.    
  
"Who?!"    
  
"Tony? Tony Stark? Where is he?"

Christine looked at him like he was crazy.    
  
"Howard Stark never had a son. All he had was a daughter who went on to become a philanthropist," she placed a hand on his forehead. "Are you running a fever?"    
  
"No!" Stephen interjected, swatting her hand away. "Christine, this isn't funny. Where the hell is 177A Bleecker Street?"   
  
"Stephen--"   
  
"Why are Loki and Thor simply myths?"   
  
"Stephen Vincent Sanders--"   
  
"And where is Tony?"   
  
_ "STEPHEN STRANGE!" _

Stephen stopped in his tracks. His eyes widened at the sound of that name. 

Strange? Since when had he ever been called  _ Strange _ ? That was such a bizarre surname. What kind of normal person would ever be called  _ Stephen Strange _ ? 

He turned to look at Christine, searching for comfort or solace. He wanted to know that he just heard her wrong. He wanted to know that he was just being crazy. He wanted to know that he was nobody else but Stephen Sanders. 

But when he looked at her, her hands covered her mouth with an expression of astonishment plastered onto her face. She stared at Stephen, noticeably hoping that he hadn’t heard what she said. Suddenly, Stephen knew what she had said.

She hadn’t said the wrong thing. She had said  _ too much _ .    
  
"Did...Did you just call me Strange?" He asked, fear settling in. What did these contradictions  _ mean _ ? He looked down at his hands, trying to make sure that he was still truly himself. Thoughts rammed through his head as he tried to calm himself down. 

His name was Stephen Sanders. He was professional neurosurgeon with a wonderful girlfriend and a completely normal life. He had never heard the name Stephen Strange before. But if that was his real name…

_ Then who was he?  _

His hands wavered as grew even more confused. For a moment, he swore they somehow glitched out, revealing dark blue sleeves around his arms. When he tried to look up to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating, he saw that the world seemed to be collapsing at the seams. The sky became a jaded red, the clouds began to fall apart, and all he heard was a loud, prolonged, singular beat. 

And then everything went black.    


* * *

“Clear!”

Electricity blasted through Stephen’s body, trying to keep him alive. When the first surge didn’t work, Tony breathlessly turned up the power and plunged the pads into the sorcerer’s chest.    
  
“CLEAR!"

With one more shockwave, the heart monitor finally started up once again. Tony grabbed his chest, trying to catch his breath. 

“That was close.”

Christine took the defibrillator from his hands as he tried to regain his composure. Wong looked over Stephen’s chest and proceeded to make sure his heart was still beating.    
  
"Jesus Christ, Stephen. You're giving me a heart atta--,” Tony whispered, before catching his poor choice of words. 

He gazed at his unconscious body, which looked exactly the same after a month. It didn’t look like he was getting any better just laying there. If he didn’t do anything soon, he could…

He couldn’t finish that thought. Not now. Not when they still had a plan to set into motion. 

“Wong, what was that spell?" 

The sorcerer glanced up from healing his friend’s body in confusion. “The Lotus Spell? You want to do that  _ now _ ?”

In response, Tony urgently pointed towards Stephen’s unconscious body. 

“Strange just almost died right before our eyes,” he stated, trying to disguise the desperation in his voice. “I have all the information I need. It’s now or never.”

“You could endanger his life if we do this prematurely,” he eyed him, skeptical if he could achieve the mission now. 

“His life is already endangered!” Tony snapped back in distress. “We’ve been waiting for days now. I need to do this.” 

Wong saw the peril in his eyes. He looked down at Stephen’s fragile body, pale as a ghost, and contemplated Tony’s argument. He cared about Stephen’s well being, but he could also tell Tony cared just as much at this point. 

Tony awaited Wong’s reply, ready to stand his ground if he refused. But to his surprise, Wong 

“Fine,” he asserted firmly. In the past few days, Tony proved he truly cherished his friend. If anyone were to save the Sorcerer Supreme, it might as well be him. “We’ll do it.” 

The engineer blinked in disbelief that they were finally on the same page. He glanced at Stephen’s body, relieved once he heard the heart monitor beeping at a regular pace again, and gave a small, sad grin. 

“I’m gonna save you soon, Stephen,” he whispered, daring to brush his hand over his forehead. He met Wong’s eyes once again, this time with a determined zeal as he shifted his entire focus on the mission at hand. 

“Let’s do this.” 

* * *

A few minutes later, Tony was standing beside Stephen’s bed, the rest of the room evacuated aside from Christine and Wong in a separate booth right next to them. 

“You’ll have 10 minutes to talk to him until the dream senses you. At this point, Stephen won’t be able to distinguish fantasy from reality, so you’ll have to do your best to convince him to wake up. He might not be able to take the truth so easily, so try to be gentle with him.”

“10 minutes?” Tony asked, flashing a cocky grin. “That’s more than enough time!”

His line didn’t spark a laugh from the sorcerer, however, as all he got in response was a grim stare. 

“Good luck,” he said gravely. 

“We’ll be watching you two from here,” Christine assured. 

Wong performed a few intricate hand motions before chanting the spell that would link their minds together. 

“ _ Transfora animo, excitet animam adhuc, tua una formae facti sunt, tota mente tua fiat… _ ”

Tony gazed at Stephen’s sickly state one more time before closing his eyes. As he felt his body drift out of the world, he whispered one final line. 

“I’m coming for you, Stephen.”

* * *

When Stephen slept, he was normally trapped in internal darkness. It was suffocating, but it was temporary. He knew it wasn’t real. He knew he was just fantasizing. But this time was different. This time, he dreamed of a man. A handsome, charming man who he swore he’s seen before.    


He had chestnut-colored hair, with a striking goatee to match, and had an oddly alluring aura. In the inky darkness of his mind, Stephen could see the man from far, far away, etched in a radiant golden outline. He ran towards the man and into his arms, and suddenly he felt complete. 

He dreamt of flying with the man above the stars, the laws of gravity non-existent for them. His heart soared as he felt himself nestled within his arms. He dreamt of them dancing in the sky, staring into each other’s eyes, and leaning into each other closer, closer, closer...    
  
And then he woke up. The dream was gone. 

He opened his eyes, the light in the room hurting his head. He shuffled in his bed, holding his forehead, and looked around to find himself in his bedroom. That was odd, he didn’t remember falling asleep in his bedroom.    
  
"You're awake!” Christine’s voice echoed through the room. He turned his head and saw her in a chair right next to his bed. “God, I thought you'd be asleep forever. I'm telling you, you have to start taking better care of yourself."   
  
"Christine?” Stephen asked, sitting up. “What happened?"   
  
"Crimity, you really don't remember?” She sighed, going over to caress his forehead. “Hope you don't have too much amnesia. You collapsed at the hospital last night right after your shift ended. I don’t understand why you insisted on working extra hours."

Oddly enough, Stephen couldn’t recall working any extra hours beforehand. He couldn’t recall working at all, actually. The last thing he remembered seeing before blacking out was the outside of the library. 

Maybe he really was going crazy.    
  
"Do you think I should retire early?” He asked out of the blue. “I can take my earnings, leave this city, and we could go out into the world.

Christine narrowed her eyes and release a confused chuckle. She ran her thumb over Stephen’s forehead, trying to soothe him.    
  
"You say some really funny things sometimes,” she replied with a laugh. “Why would you want to do that? Stop saving lives? You're finally tired of being a good person?"   
  
"No, it's not that,” he shook his head, though soon regretted the motion as his headache returned. “It's just...what if there's nothing for me beyond...this?"    
  
"Nothing?"   
  
"I'm just a surgeon. Nothing more, nothing less."    
  
"A surgeon with a really good salary..." she mumbled.    
  
"What if for the rest of my life, all I can do is save lives?” He continued, panic soon leering over him. He felt his hands begin to shake ever so slightly. “Just protecting the world? What if there's nothing else?"   
  
"And that's bad because...?" Christine asked, keeping an eye on his hands.    
  
"What if I'm just meant to do the same thing for the next 50 years? What if I'm reduced to just...a soulless, supreme surgeon?"

In the midst of his breakdown, Christine took his hand, grounding him back to the present. She leaned over and kissed him on the lips, quieting him down.    
  
"It's kinda hard to take you seriously when you say stuff like that,” she muttered as she pulled apart from him. “But anyways, this is no time for a mid-life crisis. You need to rest. Just lie back down and I'll make breakfast." 

Confusion circled in Stephen’s head once again. Since when did she cook? 

"O-Okay..." he accepted her words, however, as he wasn’t in the mood to question anything else anytime soon. Maybe he just needed to rest.    
  
"We'll get through this,” Christine stated as she exited the door. “I'm here for you."   
  
And with that, she left. Stephen contemplated her words as he settled down in bed, trying to relax. But for some reason, he didn’t feel like her words were genuine. He didn’t feel any better, and he still wasn’t entirely convinced that he was okay. 

All he could think about was the man he saw in his dream. He could’ve sworn he’d seen him before, but as far as he was concerned, he was just that -- a dream. A figment of his imagination. An amalgamation of various scattered elements of his subconscious. But he felt this odd sense of security when he was with him, whether he was a phantom or not. Now, he was back to the normal reality, where he was just a crazy surgeon. 

It was weird, really. Besides the contradictions with the world and his memory, everything was perfect. He had a loving girlfriend, a great job, and a wonderful house. Maybe he just needed to get his mind off of everything. Maybe he just needed to accept that this was how the world was.

Entirely normal.

* * *

“Let’s go to the park. You can clear your mind there.”   


Those were her exact words. Stephen tried to clear his park as he walked through the area with Christine, but he just couldn’t shake the idea that something was still off. He kept peering around the park, looking for the one weird thing that would catch him off guard. Though admittedly, that may have just been paranoia, because everyone was perfectly normal there. 

“Look at the flowers!” 

He looked over where Christine was pointing and found a lovely patch of roses. He had to admit, they looked really pretty. For a second, he let himself smile. He let himself relax. He let himself live a normal life. 

However, that serenity almost disappeared when he looked up and saw a group of men wearing some strange colored robes. And they seemed to be  _ watching _ him. 

Christine must’ve noticed him just staring at a random group of people because she took his arm and started walking towards a nearby ice cream truck with a simple “Let’s get something to eat.”

Stephen tried to calm himself, but yet again, as they walked, he could’ve sworn he saw a group of people dressed in full-on superhero armor. And for a second, he found them familiar, though he couldn’t explain why. They looked outworldly, yet recognizable somehow. And like the robed men, they were watching him. 

“C’mon!” Christine insisted once more, tugging on his sleeve. This time, he promised himself to focus on her distraction instead of the world around him. The next time he looked up, he knew the world would be back to normal. 

Lo and behold, the next time he looked up while he waited in line for ice cream, everything was completely normal. The only people in the park were just normal, ordinary citizens. Some of them were walking their dogs, others were just jogging around, but they were all just enjoying the sunny day. No more, no less. 

One of those people was a young, lonely man, sitting on a bench and basking in the sun. Like everyone else, he looked just like a normal man enjoying his day. Yet Stephen found himself being...drawn to him. He didn’t feel like the man was staring at him like with the robed men or the armored people. Instead, it was the other way around. 

And though he looked completely normal, there was something about him that just felt...strange to Stephen. The man felt like he came from a whole different dimension, oddly enough. But he didn’t know how to explain it. He didn’t know if he could explain it. He just felt off. 

The man looked up and suddenly met his eyes. Stephen stared into his familiar brown eyes and was swept with a wave of deja vu. Where had he seen him before? 

That’s when it dawned on him. He was the golden man in his dream. 

The man that wasn’t supposed to exist. The man that was just an invention of his psyche. What the hell was he doing here?    


And then suddenly, the world began to fall apart. 

When Stephen looked back at Christine, she was frozen in place, in the middle of asking him a question. Everyone else in line and at the park were paralyzed somehow. Time seemed to stop for him and him alone. He waved his hand in her face, trying to get her to talk as he heart began to race. 

“No, no, no, not again…” 

But she still remained frozen. Panicking, he took her shoulders and tried to shake her to elicit some sort of response, but his hands fell through her figure as if she were a hologram. He hyperventilated, trying to grab some part of her arm, but was always met with some kind of ghostlike interference. 

Then, the sky began to crumble. Stephen looked up to witness the once blue sky above him break into little bits of red, purple, or green as they shattered to the ground. Behind the skyscape was a midnight galaxy that almost encased the world. And suddenly, he felt a million things hit him at once. 

He felt the impact of a car. He felt a searing pain in his hands. He felt the glimmer of magic he’d only experienced in his dreams. And most of all, he felt the warmth of a nearby man. 

He felt like screaming in fear, but nothing came out of his mouth. 

“Christine?” Stephen yelled, watching as the woman next to him glitched in and out of the universe. He staggered backwards as she drifted out of the growing chaos of the world. He observed the sky flash in various colors as the Earth beneath him trembled. The universe seemed to grow into a building climax, like it was going to break him apart in one quick motion. 

He closed his eyes, held his head, and braced himself for the impact of the end of the world.    
  
And then he was under the stars. 

Everything is quiet. His feet are settled on a balcony shadowed in prussian blue. Hesitantly, he looked up from his defensive position, amazed by how the world settled just like that.    
  
Near the balcony was a man. A lonely man. The same lonely man he saw in the park. The same ruffled, dark brown hair, the same sunglasses, and the same goatee. He was gazing into the distance, leaning against the railing so far it almost worried Stephen.   
  
There was something glistening in his eyes. Patience. Anticipation. As if he was awaiting his very presence.    
  
Stephen remained awry as he examined the man. It felt like a nightmare. It wasn't terrifying or scarring or fearful like a typical nightmare. But it was claustrophobic, uneasy. If anything, he was prepared for this man to jump out of his skin in some hellish true form, prepared to attack him.   
  
After many moments of silence, the man noticed Stephen staring at him and finally turned around completely.   
  
"You're back."   
  
And with those two words, it's like an entire millennia drifts back into Stephen's mind. The magic, the Kamar-Taj, the Avengers, the sudden invitation onto his team.   
  
The one night.   
  
It was him. The missing link between his universe and his memories. The man that’s plagued his mind since the beginning. 

Tony Edward Stark.    
  
"So are you gonna talk or what? It's impolite to keep a guy waiting."   
  
Yep. Definitely a nightmare.   


* * *

Stephen blinked his eyes as he tried to get the image out of his sight. But no matter how many times he tried, he was still subjected to the suave, well-suited man leaning against the balcony right before him, sipping a glass of wine. A wave of deja vu washed over him, twisting his heart. 

"So, what's on your mind?” Tony spoke up. “It's been, what, three weeks? Let's talk."

For a moment, Stephen forgot how to speak. He forgot how to do anything. There he was, looking at Tony Stark, in the flesh, after spending a month without him.    
  
"How are you here?" he asked first, voice wavering.    
  
"Wong's spell put me here,” he explained with a snicker. “Of all people, you should be the one to recognize a spell."   
  
" _ Why _ are you here?"   
  
"Because I was hoping you'd be dreaming of something cooler,” he replied, looking around the area. “I was expecting a throne of some sort, perhaps? Dozens of beautiful women fanning you? Then again, that might have been my utopia."

Stephen broke out of his shocked trance momentarily to roll his eyes. Even in his own head, it was the same old Tony Stark. That thought lead into his last question.    
  
"Are you real?"   
  
"And that's strike three. You're out,” As if to answer his question, Tony set his glass down on the balcony and walked up to Stephen and grabbed his hand. He watched as Stephen’s eyes widened at the familiar touch. He felt his hand sink into his for a proper second, before he pulled it back. “But yeah, I'm the real thing. Huge brain and everything. Let's actually talk now, I've got plenty of time. Though there's a chance that I might die soon, so we gotta make it quick. You've already asked your questions, so I'll just say mine. First of all, why did you hide that stab wound from us?"   
  
"....I didn't think it was important at the time," Stephen answered, crossing his arms. Though, he only had faint memories of a “stab wound” before he woke up a month ago.    
  
"You were  _ stabbed _ ," Tony replied.   
  
“I...thought it healed already,” Stephen shot back, trying to remember what he was talking about.    
  
“How did it happen?”   
  
“Someone just tried to stab me, and I tried to heal myself.”   
  
“Really? That’s anti-climactic. I was expecting something bigger from you,” Tony remarked. “Especially since I don’t think normal knives have magical enchantments…” 

Shocked by the comment, a memory suddenly formed in Stephen’s mind, like a memento from his past life. An inkling of the real world seeped into his brain as a dagger appeared in his hand, crafted out of stardust. 

“The Dagger of Dulagar…” he muttered, looking down at the blade in his hands. It was stained with dried crimson blood. A wound briefly appeared at his torso, dripping with crimson liquid, before disappearing in an instant. “It’s meant to inflict a deadly wound on its victim...but only if they inflict it on themselves....” 

Both of their eyes widened at the description that poured out his mouth. Stephen stared at the blade that rested in his hands, covered in some maroon substance that has since dried up. His knowledge of magic suddenly came racing back to his brain like a spear to the head. It was a useless relic only meant for those who have given up hope...

“Why did you go to that dimension?” Tony asked out of the blue, changing the subject. 

Another vision sparked in Stephen’s head, almost possessing his body. This time, he saw a field filled with beautiful serene colors and a large tree covered with purple leaves and black pears. He could feel his back rest against the firm wooden trunk as his blood spilled onto the sapphire flavored grass. The sky flickered behind him, changing from a starry evening to a radiant sunset. As the world reverted to its previous state, astonishment shimmered in his eyes. 

He remembered everything. 

He remembered Tony, Wong, the real Christine. He remembered magic, dimensions, the Kamar-Taj. The Dark Dimension. Dormammu.

He remembered lying against the large oak tree in that peaceful dimension for a few calm seconds, before plunging an object into his stomach. He remembered seeing his blood pooling onto the grass as his mind grew hazy. 

He remembered why he went to the dimension that fateful day, why he had that relic in his hands, and which spell he uttered before he went unconscious. 

The Lotus Spell. A spell meant to summon enough dream-eating demons to alter his mind and trap him when he was at his most vulnerable state. It made death just a little bit easier to bear.    
  
“...He really did tell you everything, didn’t he?” Shame dripped from his question. He didn’t just merely visit the dimension to relax. He went there to  _ die _ .    
  
“He’s your best friend, of course he’d tell me if something bad happened to you,” Tony replied, utterly sincere. “What do you take him for? A servant? Like all he does is answer to your beck and call? Back to the subject. Why did you go there, of all places?”

Now that he knew everything, he could answer all of Tony’s questions truthfully. There was no use in escaping the inevitable.    
  
“There’s a dimension out there, out beyond this world,” he began. “And...it’s boring. Very, very boring. It’s just a field of flowers and skies. And sometimes, I go there when I need to unwind. I just watch the sky. It’s really calming.”   
  
“Sounds dull,” he snarked in response, though he had to admit his curiosity was piqued. “Guess that explains the dream. And speaking of which, that brings me to my final question: why won’t you wake up?”   
  
“What?” Stephen asked, suddenly back to square one.    
  
“You don’t want to wake up,” Tony stated. “This is supposed to be your paradise, from what I hear. This,” he directed his arm towards the plain night sky. “This-This dense, unimaginable, repetitive life. No monsters. No robots. No maniacal Saturday morning cartoon villains with one-dimensional schemes. That's not the Doctor Strange I know. It’s right there in your name -- strange. You go to strange, far off worlds to converse with the devil. So why? Why did you want to kill yourself and run away to such a drab, uninspired world? Are you okay?”    
  
“I’m…” he stumbled over his words. All he could remember was years and years of locked up torment. “I don’t know.”   
  
Tony raised an eyebrow. “You’re not okay?”

Stephen hesitated, then nodded.    
  
“In simplest terms, yes.”

The world changed beneath his feet. Next thing Stephen knew, he was in the banquet hall, decked out in his discernable blue robes, surrounded by make-believe guests. Just like that one night all those weeks ago. He staggered backwards, dazed by the sudden change, and into Tony’s arms. He steadied him as he adjusted to the new environment, before motioning for him to continue.    
  
"The truth is...every future that I witness...every death that I face...I hold onto it,” Stephen explained. He felt his hands begin to quiver ever so slightly. “My body holds every single battle I've faced since I've devoted myself to magic. Every wound, every puncture, every scar. I've memorized countless different worlds where I die, you die, the world collapses...and I can't forget any of them. I see them at night. I relive them."

Tony worriedly glanced at Stephen, who had almost drifted off into a daze while recounting his nightmares. It was the first time he ever heard about this. 

“And you thought the only way out was death?”

Stephen said nothing. He neither confirmed nor denied his suspicion. He just glanced at Tony for a minute, before looking away.    
  
"That's...That's rough,” Tony said, clutching his shoulder in an attempt to console him. “Have you told anyone about that?"   
  
"No…” he answered, shaking his head. “I wouldn’t want to dump all of this onto Wong, and I don't even know how to confront Christine about all of this...I haven’t spoken to her in months. I don't think she would understand."   
  
"Not even a therapist?"   
  
He shook his head. “I don’t have any money.”   
  
"Not even me?"   
  
That caught him off guard. Stephen stared at Tony, trying to figure out what to say. "You..." he struggled to finish the sentence, but nothing came out.   
  
"Not even the Avengers?” he continued. “Aren't we supposed to be a team?"   
  
Stephen sighed. "I didn't want to bother anyone."   
  
"Why would you be bothering anyone?"   
  
"Because I'm the one that has to be calm!” he stated, voice hitching with exasperation. “I'm the Sorcerer Supreme, I'm supposed to have everything under control."

However, Tony didn’t look like he was buying it. “No. I don’t think that’s why you never told us.”   
  
A familiar song began to hum through the air. Suddenly, he softly took Stephen’s hands and pulled him into a waltz with the rest of the make-believe couples. The two were momentarily reliving their one moment of intimacy all those weeks ago. The moment that kickstarted all this fear, hostility, and awkwardness between them.    
  
"You never told anyone...but not because you thought they wouldn't understand,” Tony said, spinning his partner. “You tell us stuff that we don't understand all the time. You didn't tell anyone what you were going through because you...you just didn't want to."   
  
Stephen fell into Tony’s arms with a deadpan glare. "Wow. How insightful."   
  
"Don't be sarcastic when I'm trying to comfort you,” he said, pulling him back up. “You didn’t tell anyone because you didn’t want anyone to think you were weak. That you were vulnerable. You just want to bottle everything up until you explode.”

He paused in his step, bringing their dance to a halt. He grasped Stephen’s hands and looked into his eyes. 

“Now listen to me,” he started, his voice stern yet comforting. “You're amazing, Stephen, okay? Bet you always wanted to hear that. In simple terms, I admire you. I think you’re very smart, very respectful, and a valuable member of the team. You’re apart of the team now, so any of your problems are just as serious as anyone else’s."    
  
When the song ended, the scenery shifted once again. The two were back on the balcony once again, underneath the glimmering stars.

"When you wake up, I'll schedule a therapy session right away. I'll find the best therapist money could buy, and I'll pay for as many sessions as you need--"   
  
"No.”   
  
Silence fell onto them as Tony took in his response. He gaped at the wizard, wondering if he heard him correctly. Stephen stepped back from Tony, shaking his head.    
  
"I'm not waking up. This place, or whatever outlandish hellscape this is, is beautiful,” he explained, looking up at the stars with breathless awe. This is what he loved about the world. The beauty, the space, the magnificence...and he could get all of that in this heaven. “The world can exist without Stephen Strange."

Tony watched Stephen falling into his dream once again and crossed his arms. He couldn’t be serious about this. The world needed him.  _ He _ needed him.    
  
"You can’t be serious, right? That's selfish, Stephen," he scolded, hoping that he was bluffing. But he knew full well that he wasn’t.    
  
"That's a laugh coming from you,” Stephen shot back, turning around. “Do you really think you could just buy me therapy and suddenly I'll be happy? I'll be satisfied? I'll be..cured? Just like that? Who the hell would even care if I died? You don't have the right to call me selfish. You can't erase the scars of the mind, Tony. They're here to stay, and there's nothing I can do about it...but maybe if I can forget--"   
  
Tony softly grabbed his hand, pulling him out of that train of thought. But despite how soft his grip was, a familiar pain seared through Stephen’s hand, making him wince. It pained Tony to hurt him like this again, but he stared him down, a mix of fury and pain in his eyes. He tried being nice. He tried being heartfelt. Now he had to jam it into his skull how much he actually cared about him.    
  
"You're really just gonna give up on the world because you don't want to be vulnerable?” He asked, spitting out every word like it was venom. “You're gonna surrender yourself to a lifelong coma filled with your sickly sweet dreams just because you don't want to talk about your feelings? You, the guy that’s risked his life to save the world over 1,000 times, the guy that told me that  _ I _ was important, that  _ I _ was worth saving. The guy that told me he loved m--"

Stephen recoiled from his grasp and held his hand to his chest. When he looked down, he could see the recognizable tremors forming into his skin once again.    
  
"That was one night, Tony,” he told him, looking away. He couldn’t bare to look him in the eyes at this point. “One night."   
  
"So what if it was one night?” Tony interjected, pissed off. “I've spent 5 of them trying to find a cure for you, just so you can tell me you're abandoning the Earth. Where's my thanks? Where's my gratitude for dedicating myself to medical bullshit day and night to try to save your  _ damn _ life?!” 

Tony pointed a finger into Stephen’s chest with enough force that he felt like he was being stabbed.    
  
“And why did I do that?” He asked, practically fuming. “ _ Because I  _ ** _fucking_ ** _ love you! _ ” 

Stephen felt his heart stop. That entire sentence shattered his world. The one sentence he thought he would never hear after all that’s happened. 

Tony loved him.

“I can't go a single day thinking about you or your well-being or wanting to be next to you! I think you’re beautiful and great, and amazing! And I knew you would go to the ends of the Earth to protect the world. And apparently, stuff like that is called "feelings" and I needed to tell you sooner or later,” Tony continued. “And I hoped you would feel the same. I genuinely thought you loved me too.”

He sighed, crossing his arms in disappointment. Stephen wanted to say something, but was muted by guilt to find the right words.

“But no. Turns out you were living it up in some marvelous wonderland and wanted to stay here forever! Well, I'm sorry to interrupt you,” He shrugged. “So yeah, I think I have the right to call you selfish.”

Stephen didn’t know what to say. He never wanted to go back. He never wanted to return to Earth. He always thought love wasn’t achievable. All love was artificial and temporary. Only meant for naive idiots. It happened every time he tried to “love” someone. He couldn’t “love” anyone properly. He’d only end up hurting them in the end. 

He betrayed Christine once with his “love”. He didn’t want to do that to Tony. 

“It’s time to wake up, Stephen,” Tony told him, speaking with a newfound gentle grace. A hand fell onto Stephen’s cheek. “I care about you. Your friends care about you. You have to face the music someday, Stephen. It's apart of life. You've never run away from your problems before. Why would you start now?" 

Stephen felt Tony intertwining their fingers once again, just like that one night. He brought himself to look into his eyes -- his comforting, radiant brown eyes -- and found himself falling in love all over again. Tony gave him a small smile, almost knocking him down with his subtle charm. And for a second, he thinks that maybe, just maybe, he could learn how to love. He could love again. 

Maybe he could love Tony. 

A pile of stardust fell into Stephen’s hand. He stepped back in surprise once he saw Tony begin to disappear right before his eyes. 

“Looks like my time is up…” Tony said calmly, feeling his body return to reality. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

With his last few moments, Tony kissed him on the cheek. But the warmth of his lips faded away in an instant, as did the man himself. 

The memories hit him like a truck. Memories of magic began to ooze their way into his mind once again. Dozens of spells, hundreds of futures, all seeing their way back into his consciousness. All the emotions, all the experiences, all the trauma...back in his memory all at once. 

Then, he was encased in darkness.    


* * *

“Stephen? Stephen? Stephen?” 

When Stephen opened his eyes, he was back in the park with Christine. Everything is quiet. He looked around, realizing they were completely alone. He started hyperventilating when he realized he was still wearing his sorcerer robes. Sweat beaded around his forehead as he panicked. 

Christine looked at him, worriedly, not recognizing that he’s in something completely different. 

“Ch-Christ--?”

She grabbed his hand, cutting him off. But it didn’t calm Stephen down one bit. 

“Stephen…” She whispered. 

This...whatever this was...wasn’t real. This wasn’t Christine. This wasn’t the real world. But deep down, Stephen wanted to believe it was real. He wanted to hold onto this dreamlike universe forever. Just him, and this completely normal world. But he knew it couldn’t be. He knew the truth about this Heaven. 

Everything was perfect -- but nothing was real. 

Stephen staggered away from So-Called-Christine’s grip. 

“You’re not real,” He asserted, trying to convince himself as well. 

So-Called-Christine’s eyes widened at his statement. However, she didn’t seem affected in the slightest. She slowly walked back up to him and placed a comforting hand on his cheek, causing him to flinch. He breathed heavily, awry about what this creature was going to do to him.    
  
“Oh, Stephen…” She began, her voice soft and airy. “... _ what have you done _ ?” 

Her body dissolved into stardust, and the illusion finally shattered. Stephen recoiled at the sight, then turned around to see the entire world breaking down before him. The ground rumbled beneath his feet. Cracks invaded the beautiful summer sky, infecting them with a disgusting darkness. The buildings began to float into the sky, along with Stephen. 

This was reality. This was magic, conquering his conscious, forcing him to wake up. 

Panic settled into him once again. For a moment, he was calm. He almost accepted the sudden supernatural leaking into his mind. 

And then, he started to scream. 

* * *

  
_ And like that, the world began to shatter. _   
  


* * *

When Tony awoke, his body was forcefully thrown against the wall. He was motionless for a second before quickly rising to his feet. He scrambled to the table, but when he saw what was happening to the room, he froze in place, breathless. A few more blood tests and heart readings suddenly became null and void once he took sight of what was happening to the facility.   
  
Everything -- including the patient -- was being torn apart.   
  
"Wong? Christine?" Tony muttered, searching the area for his colleagues. His eyes landed on a corner of the room, where the two were trying to protect themselves under a scarlet shield.    
  
Every medical device that was supposed to help him shattered to the ground, blown away by the central force that was being inflicted upon them. The glass windows shattered into bits, unable to hold themselves under his pressure. Light of various different colors began to dance upon the walls, turning each corner into a monstrous cluster of the world. At one corner, a contained galaxy. At another, a treacherous ocean. A tundra, a forest, and an endless sky reflected throughout the once completely white ward.    
  
If there was any time to laugh, Tony would've snickered at the irony. The chamber that was supposed to contain this magic was now being torn apart by it.    
  
He breathlessly surveyed the area, frozen in place, trying to make sense of whatever catastrophic nightmare was leaking into their world.    
  
In the center, hovering above his hospital mattress, released from his restraints, Stephen yelled. He howled in pain, the same distressing screech that exited his body after unexpectedly being impaled releasing within the room, adding onto the unraveling chaos. Pure, anarchic, uncontrollable magic was erupting from his core. It clung to his body, cracking through every vein in his body, rendering him a vessel -- a puppet to its control.    
  
The scream wasn't voluntary. It was extracted from his chest once the magic began rushing through his body. It was a distress signal -- a sign that all those surrounding the area, vulnerable to its power, had to evacuate.    
  
But Tony didn’t listen to the warning call. He couldn’t give up on him now. He had no suit, no weapons, no defense mechanisms, and no plan. All he could do was wing it. 

He ran over to the table, but was suddenly lifted into the air midway. Everything around him began to float in the air, gravity no longer applying to anything. 

He was briefly caught off guard, but soon adjusted to the change. He’s flown before, and he could do it again. Tony stepped onto a piece of floating debris, launching himself off of it and towards the bed. He latched onto one of the chains that kept Stephen’s body from completely wreaking havoc on the world and climbed up to meet the wizard face-to-face. 

“I’ve got you,” He told the disconnected sorcerer as he braced a hand on his shoulder to keep himself from flying out. He hoisted himself up and finally got a glimpse of what the magic was doing to his body.    
  
Upon closer inspection, he noticed that his eyes were open. Magic rocketed through his sockets, forcing them open, turning his eyes into an enchanting display of gold. His veins were a sickly purple, walking across pale skin.   
  
Heart racing, he reached his arms out and grabbed onto Stephen’s body as tight as he could. He cradled Stephen's head in his hands, trying to signal that he was there. He wiped away a few tears that seeped from his eyes.    
  
"I love you," He says, trying to keep his voice soft. The words are like a shield against all the monstrosities that inhabited the room. He settled his forehead on top of his, closing his eyes tight, anticipating -- almost embracing -- the havoc that was sure to finish him off. The noise continued to build into a crescendo, echoing eternally, surrounding him. It peered over him, like a predator to its prey, slowly rising to strike…   
  
...but nothing happened.    
  
With a strained cry, the hovering body vaguely faltered through the air. Not pulled by gravity, but almost at an attempt to fight against the magic surging through his system. Sensing the sudden disruption, Tony slowly emerged from his position to examine him.    
  
For a second, he could've sworn Stephen hesitated. When he tried to reach over to his arm, his body fell slightly under his touch, as if trying to fall into his hands. Could he have done it? Could he hear him? Did he resist against the magic somehow? 

That hope -- that tiny glimmer of hope that he could hear what he was saying -- compelled him to continue.    
  
He said the very next thing that came to mind.   
  
"It's time to wake up."   
  
With that, he exhaustedly reverted back to his position, unsure if he was right about everything. He continued holding his head, drowning out the entire world. He felt his body rise and lower ever so slightly, like a lifeboat on the rocky shores of the unforeseen ocean. Could it have worked? Or was he just a desperate lunatic?    
  
He did everything he could to eliminate the world creeping over his shoulder. He saw a superfluous aura of light encapsulating the world, but he still did not open his eyes. There was an eruption, a grumble of the Earth, like a final explosion of magic coming to finish the both of them off. Still, he clung to the body, promising to hold onto him until he woke up.    
  
But after that, there was nothing. 

The screaming had finally ceased.    
  
All he could hear was the sound of chaos slowly dwindling into nothingness over time, like a sputtering car. It wasn’t until after he felt the body in his arms slump towards the mattress and his body plummet to gravity that he raised his head again.   
  
He had little time to react to the sudden change. His body crashed onto the bed, Stephen following soon after.. His first instinct was to make sure Wong and Christine were okay. Luckily, he noticed them in the corner, safe as could be, checking out the destruction and possibly calculating how much money they’d need to replace everything. 

Then, he looked down. Stephen’s body was limp, weakened by the magical explosion, restrained by the chains once again. His eyes were closed, at last. He was noticeably hyperventilating in his unconscious state, but at least he was still breathing.    
  
Tony grabbed his wrist, checking for a pulse just to be safe, and sighed in relief. 

“You're safe,” He told him, holding onto him for comfort. “I’ve got you.”    


* * *

In the remains of Stephen’s psyche, the dream began falling apart. All he could do was scream. 

A single cataclysmic scream that disrupts the entire universe. The stars flickered out throughout the sky like worn-out lightbulbs. The moon began collapsing onto the Earth, tearing apart the grass carpets. The sun rose for a second, before remembering the impossibility of co-existing with the moon, and started colliding towards the surface as well.   
  
He grabbed his head as he floated within the disaster of it all. Cradling his spinning head, his screams began to increase like a siren signaling a distant disaster. They're nonhuman, paranormal, supernatural.    
  
The imaginary souls that only existed throughout his mind began to hover, the laws of reality (or whatever was left of it) no longer restraining them. Their faces melted away into indistinguishable blobs of nothingness, as if the facade was making no attempt to conceal itself anymore.    
  
The "Earth" was beyond unrecognizable now. Now, all that remained was a sea of colors. Everything, from the sky to the solar system consisted of just an eye-bleeding gold, a chunky pile of red, scattered remains of blue, and in the middle, a singular, solitary, distressingly calm lilac.    
  
The godlike screaming ceased for a split-second as one final figure in an ocean of millions floated in front of him. Contrasting the bizarre compilation of horrific look alikes, this figure was distinct. It was patient, steady. Almost immune to the chaos happening throughout the world.    
  
And, like that one period of lilac that bled through the Earth's core, it was calm.   
  
The figure ignored his continued screams and slowly raised a glowing hand to his face. His arms wrapped around himself, preparing for what ungodly method of torture this being was about to unleash upon him. But instead, he felt it...caressing his face. Comfortingly. Like a mother soothing her child to sleep after being awoken from a nightmare.    
  
His screams died out, unable to counter itself with the sudden sweetness of this being's touch. He could hear it mumbling something. Incoherent, but recognizably...pleading? Demanding? Begging?   
  
_ 'I love you.' _   
  
...was all he heard. And for a minute, he was confused. The voice was an indecipherable multi-toned symphony, but still possessed a gentle grace. He felt the voice throughout the figure. It was in the warm palms that cradled his face, the levitating, imbalanced, almost uncertain tone that wavered in the words, and the beautiful, cosmic, stark assertion of the entire phrase.   
  
The figure spoke one more time.    
  
_ 'It's time to wake up.' _   
  
...and it ascended from his grip, following the rest of its fellow brethren into the forbidden sky.   
  
And then he was alone. In the middle of a mental apocalypse.   
  
He felt himself pleading to stay there. He looked to the clouds, demanding his people to stay with him. He begged for the Earth to rebuild itself, to listen to his commands once again.   
  
But he said nothing. Nothing happened.   
  
As the sky and its followers began to disappear, so did his kingdom. And suddenly he was left in a black background, void of any remaining life besides him.   
  
He felt his body rebuilding. He felt his heart pumping again, no longer needing help from any needles or tubes. He felt blood gushing through his veins again, real and pure. He felt himself returning to humanity.   
  
He looked to the sky, the null and empty sky, wishing one final time to stay there forever.   
  
And when nothing happens again, he let himself be rebuilt into wholeness again. He breathed wholesomely, conclusively, in the remains of his wonderland, praying one last futile time to let it be true. As everything in his forbidden utopia comes to a close, he felt a familiar darkness once again. For once, he embraced it.    
  
And finally --  _ finally _ \-- ** _ he wakes up_ ** .   


* * *

Waking up wasn't easy.    
  
The minute his conscious assembled into reality, his eyes were only open for approximately 5 seconds, vision wavering in those long moments so he couldn't even decipher his surroundings. Afterwards, he would collapse into yet another period of rest. Right after his eyes closed, an endless plethora of colors substituted his dreams. Just an imaginary sky filled with mixed vibrant hues.    
  
Every so often he would attempt to open his eyes, only to be met with the blaring enchantment of the overhead fluorescent lights. Then it was back to darkness, then a playlist of random colored splotches, and repeat.    
  
But occasionally, he saw something more than a blinding ray of artificial brightness. Something more...pure. More human. Through the corners of his eyes, for a split-second, he saw a face.   
  
It was nothing more, nothing less. Just a face staring down at him. The lapses between consciousness and immeasurable slumber were so quick that he never got the chance to examine the details. And it didn't help that the details in question (or what little he saw) were inconsistent. Sometimes it would be a flourish of hair the color of sunflowers. Other times it would be a blanket of red wrapped around his wrist comfortingly. 

But two days after he returned to reality, after hours of constantly seeing different people hovering over him, he finally saw a solid man. A fully solid, fully real man. A man with chestnut locks, impeccable facial hair, and a certain suave charm that felt missing from Stephen’s life for the past month or so. 

His heart almost skipped a beat when it finally registered who he was. 

It was Tony Stark, in the flesh. 

It was him, present and true, examining his health data to make sure he was recovering well. He blinked his eyes, trying to make sure he wasn’t just hallucinating. But then Tony met his eyes. His expression shifted from focused to surprised. Both of them were thinking the same exact thing. 

_ You’re here. You’re true. You’re real.  _

_ I love you.  _

And that’s when Stephen knew he wasn’t dreaming anymore.

When Tony noticed his eyes open for more than 20 seconds, all he did was smirk.    
  
“I see you’re awake,” he said coolly. His confident expression soon melted into a genuinely pleased smile. “Welcome back.”    


* * *

For the next few days, Stephen was restricted to the hospital for numerous check-ups. Every day, he watched the same doctors and nurses look over the same information. When he wasn’t plagued with flashbacks about the last time he stayed in a hospital that long, he got lonely. 

It was difficult enough being in a familiar, yet unfamiliar world. Now he was just in an entirely familiar world with nothing to do besides get caught up in his own thoughts and dreams. 

One person in particular, however, always made him stir back into reality. Every day, he'd watch as one certain doctor would examine his vitals attentively. She was a remnant of his dreamworld, a shadow of the life he used to have. There was a shard of guilt that impaled him whenever he watched her check up on him. One thought always lingered in his mind as the days went on. 

He needed to face the music. 

It had been a long time since he spoke to her in person. The least he could do was cough up a conversation. And after days of trying to muster up the courage, he finally took one step forward.    
  
"Christine," he greeted her one day, out of the blur.

Christine froze in her tracks, stunned by his voice. For several moments, she didn’t look. She contemplated whether to acknowledge him or talk to him after all this time. 

Eventually, she turned around. 

"Stephen,” she said, still unsure whether she should be doing this or not. But it was too late, the conversation was initiated, and all she could do was try to engage. 

The situation felt odd, to say the least. Previously he spent hours upon hours talking with a perfect, dreamlike shadow of someone he once knew. But now that he was looking at her face to face, he had no idea what to say. 

"It's been awhile," he replied, trying to find the right words.    


Christine sighed, shaking her head at his cliché words. 

"You disappear for months, you fall into a magical coma for 4 weeks, Iron Man calls me in for an indirect therapy session, you nearly destroy your hospital room apart...and  _ that's _ the first thing you want to talk about?" She asked, exasperated by how inconceivable it sounded out loud. But Stephen noticed that her tone was almost humorous, and there was a hint of a smile on her face. 

Well, at least she was talking to him now. 

An awkward silence followed, making Stephen's heart sink further. Guess all there was left to do was apologize. 

“I’m...sorry," he began, ripping off the first bandage. "I’m sorry I never talked to you after all these years. I’m sorry for not telling you about magic, or the Avengers. I’m sorry for ignoring you.”

Christine blinked, slightly taken aback by the unexpected atonement. Stephen paused, only realizing now that he might be saying too much for her to take in. 

She exhaled, almost sounding relieved by his words. 

"I'm just glad that you're alive," she confessed softly. "I still care about you, you know. I just wish you'd at least tell me about your magical adventures before you show up dead on our doorstep." 

“I’m sorry we couldn’t have been better,” Stephen replied, guilt washing over him.

Christine looked away from him, examining a nearby computer, and Stephen thought that was that. He gazed at her for a few more seconds, before accepting that the conversation was over, and proceeded to turn away as well. However, 

"Maybe we could be better now."

Somewhat astonished, Stephen felt a weight being lifted from his chest. Christine glanced at him with a look of subtle forgiveness, marked by a hint of a smile on her face. 

"Maybe,” Stephen noted, returning the smile. Well, he couldn’t just end the conversation there, so he tried to conjure up some small talk. “How’s Dr. West?”

“Great. Don’t know why you would care, though,” Christine replied, a bit of snark dripping from her sentence. “How’s Mr. Stark?” 

Stephen’s eyes widened. The relief that once filled his heart quickly turned into embarrassment as he watched Christine flash a smirk in his direction. Blood rushed to his cheeks as he stammered for an answer. 

“We, uh--”

He was caught off as the door opened, revealing the man himself to be standing in the doorway. Christine drew away from the computer as Stephen tried to keep himself from blushing even further. 

“Speak of the devil and he shall arrive,” she whispered to herself. She glanced at the two men, noticing that they were staring at each other, as if the world had disappeared before them. “Do you two want some time alone?”

“Yes, please,” Tony said quickly, making his way into the room. 

Christine nodded, gathered up her paperwork, and made her way towards the door. Stephen took his gaze away from Tony for a moment to watch Christine as she left. He saw her mouth ‘invite me to the wedding’ with a satisfied smile as she left and kept himself from shaking his head. And least they were friends again.    
  
The door clicked closed. Then it was just the two of them. Usually Tony knew what to say in any situation, but even Stephen could tell he was at a loss of words here.    
  
"So..." Tony began, scratching his head. 

Stephen decided there was no better time than now to rip off the second bandage. Since Tony didn't seem up to addressing it, guess he had to take initiative.    
  
"That one night," he stated bluntly. 

Tony’s eyes widened, taken aback by the sudden shift in topic. He narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms. 

"Cutting straight to the point, I see?" 

All Stephen could do was nod.    
  
"I'll admit, I was lonely," he started again. "Imagine entering a room you've never been to, surrounded by people you've only spoken to on certain occasions. I didn't expect... _ that _ to happen."   
  
"Well, to be honest, I didn't expect to see you there. I mostly expected you to be cramped up in your library drinking some random tea of the month or whatever."   
  
"Are you ever gonna stop generalizing me based on those two things?" He rolled his eyes. They'd been working for weeks now, he was more than just a hippie. "But anyways, I...liked it. I liked talking to you. I like fighting with you. I like your determination, you never give up a challenge. I like your leadership, you never leave a single man behind. I like your initiative, you know how to handle the reigns of a situation. I like your wits and intellect, your suits are truly innovative. And I like your goatee. It's fitting."    
  
"Thanks…” Tony replied. “I’m almost flattered. I 'like' a lot of things about you, too..."    
  
"I love you." 

The three words slipped out of his mouth on a whim, but he meant it. He wholly, completely meant it. 

It was clear. It was honest. It was true. 

He loved Tony.    
  
But Tony didn't seem as ready to reciprocate just yet. He paused when he heard that simple, yet effective phrase. "What?"   
  
"I'm just gonna be outright," he continued, tone turning awfully stern. “I. Love. You. And I'm sorry I waited so long to say it."    
  
"...Well, I can't say I blame you--"   
  
"Don't try to act snarky when I'm trying to be compassionate," he cut him off really quickly. He wasn't in the mood to engage in continuous snark. "The thing is, what you said when we were...there...it stuck with me. You're very special to me, Tony. I don't know what I'd do without you."

Silence threaded the room for seconds. The cockiness drained from Tony’s face as he thought of how to respond.    
  
"The feeling is mutual," he said at last, no snarkiness in tact.    
  
"And thanks for saving my life," Stephen quickly added on, only just now remembering it.    
  
"Took you long enough..." he mumbled.    
  
"The thing is, I stare death in the eye every other afternoon. I've cradled the pieces of my soul for years. I've resorted to eating monster flesh and demon blood more times than I'd like to admit. I can command the stars, reverse the galaxies, and order the Earth to my bidding. And it's my responsibility to keep things in-check. I can't abandon reality, and I don't want you getting caught in it anymore than you already have. Christine didn't deserve to have to witness any of this, and so shouldn't you."

He glanced at Tony, watching as his expression shifted as he warned him about the dangers of magic. As he went on, he began to doubt if they could make the relationship work. He knew he was subjecting Tony to millions of potential threats if they went through with...whatever “this” was. He just wondered if he could take it. 

"Wow...Stephen…” As he finished his explanation, Tony just looked at him with a sunken expression. “That whole soliloquy was nice and all...but are you sure we're still not stuck in that little dreamworld of yours?” 

And that’s when all the arrogance returned. 

“Have you forgotten who I am? Iron Man? Member of the Avengers? The guy who's faced Titans and worked with Gods? Hah, it's like you think I'm Princess Peach or something. Like I'm just gonna end up being your damsel in distress, the one you'll always have to save at the end of the day. I'm not useless, Stephen. I am Tony Stark."    
  
"There's the assertiveness," Stephen drawled. "Well, sorry for worrying about your life. It's not like warping reality is just a pillow fight, you know."    
  
"Well, it's not like I've gone 3 out of 5 days without nearly getting my head ripped off, is it?" Tony shot back. "Or without facing some kind of pissed off ex-employee wearing some cheap armor threatening to tear me apart limb from limb? Or a random space dictator coming with an army of thousands to try and take over the Earth? If you really think I'm suddenly gonna be targeted more than I already am just because you battle some vampires or whatever, you've got another thing coming." 

Stephen dragged his hand down his face with a groan. When he realized what they were doing, however, his groan segued into a tired chuckle.    
  
“We really are two peas in a pod, huh?” He mused.

Tony smirked at his observation. “Guess that’s why we’re such a perfect match for each other.” 

He rolled his eyes with an amused smile.    
  
"Fine, then...do you want to try something?" He asked, ripping off the bandage entirely. "Like, try to  _ be _ something?" 

He swore his heart stopped in the couple of seconds where Tony was silent. For a second, he thought the question was completely inappropriate and opened his mouth to revoke it. But before he could take it all back, Tony beamed.    
  
"Finally," He said. "Finally! I thought you'd never ask." 

Stephen blinked, taken aback by his sudden joy. Not that he didn't reciprocate it, but he was just surprised that he was so eager to  _ be  _ something with him.    
  
"Seriously?"   
  
"Yeah, did you not hear me talking to your dream form? I already said I loved you. I just can't believe it took you this long to respond." He crossed his arms. "Pretty ungrateful, if you ask me."   
  
"I was in the hospital for 3 weeks. What else could I do?" Stephen sighed.But still, he was happy to officially be in a relationship with someone he loved at last. He inched his hand closer to Tony's. "So... soulmates?"

He thought over the word for a few seconds with a small hum.    
  
"Mmm, a bit cheesy," he said, placing a hand on Stephen's bed. "Boyfriends?" 

Stephen stifled a laugh. The last time he used that term was all the way back in high-school, behind his parents' backs.    
  
“Not committal enough," he replied, inching his hand closer to Tony's. "How about...partners?"

Tony smiled at the suggestion. Once he felt his fingertips, the two intertwined their fingers together, melting into each other's touch for the first time since Stephen woke up.   
  
"Sure. Partners. So, if we get married, how would Stephen Stark: The Sorcerer Supreme sound on a nametag?"   
  
"Hmm, doesn't have the same ring to it. How about "Tony Strange?"   
  
"That kinda sounds like a stripper name, and not one of the good ones," Tony joked, shaking his head. "God...if we make this official, the Avengers are gonna have a ton of questions."    
  
"Let's take it slow for now," Stephen suggested. He didn't want to think about the future now. All he wanted was the present. All he needed was him, in this very moment. "I don't think New York is ready for the romance between Iron Man and Doctor Strange."

The two locked eyes, finding comfort in the other's familiar gaze. It was like falling in love all over again. Tony leaned forward, cupped his face, and softly kissed Stephen on the lips. Months ago, he would've wanted to pull away the moment they touched hands, but now Stephen found himself melting into the kiss.

Intimacy was a soothing feeling. It was a feeling Stephen hadn't experienced in a long, long time. And he didn't even realize how much he missed it until he got it back again. 

When Tony pulled back, he giggled like a little kid who just heard the worst secret in the world. And Stephen knew he was that secret.    
  
"I don't even think  _ I'm _ ready," Tony teased. 

Stephen brought a hand up to caress Tony's face as he held his hand in the other.    
  
"Neither am I," He agreed, rubbing his thumb on Tony's hand. "But I'll try." 

* * *

A month later, they finally had their first date.

Stephen honestly thought they wouldn’t last that long, but he was happily surprised. He found himself still loving him as much as he did that one night. So, he thought it would’ve only been fitting to take Tony to the most peaceful place he could imagine. 

“We’re here.”

Stepping out of the mystic’s scarlet wheel onto the grassy hill, Tony took his first glimpse at the world Stephen loved. 

“It’s…” He drifted off, gazing around the new world. 

“Exactly what I said it was?” 

He nodded. “Yeah.” 

It wasn’t anything interesting, which might’ve been the reason  _ why _ it was so interesting. It was almost an exact copy of Earth, besides the odd colors of nature, filled with peace and serenity. There were no conflict, no cruelty, no aliens, no monsters, nothing. He couldn’t see himself living there (it would be far too boring for him, even if he was eternally happy) but as a vacation spot? It was practically flawless. 

He watched as Stephen rested against a nearby tree with purple leaves and black pears hanging on the branches. 

“I’m guessing this is as close to perfect as you’re gonna get,” Tony said, following him to the shady grove. He took a seat next to him and looked up at the sky. 

Stephen hummed. “It used to be,” he responded tiredly, letting the world take him away. He turned his head to Tony and smirked. “Then I met you.” 

He met his eyes, and suddenly they were falling in love all over again. 

The two fell onto their backs, watching as the iris clouds sailed across the swirling cotton candy sky. They pointed their fingers up, murmuring about the different shapes they saw high above. A dog, a plane, a rabbit, a heart. They laughed together, their hands rested within each other. Stephen pecked him on the cheek. In response, Tony tackled him in a ravenous kiss. 

Suddenly, they were tumbling off the edge of the hill. They were caught in each other’s arms, screaming together as they slid down the blueberry grass. Tony landed on his palms, pinning Stephen down on his back. With instant concern, he quickly grabbed Stephen’s hands and searched them for any injuries. The worry lasted for only a moment, though, before Stephen started laughing again. 

”I’m fine!” He beamed, pushing Tony off of him. He rose from the ground, took a patch of grass. and threw it at Tony with raw immaturity. “Stop worrying about me!” 

“Shut up!” Tony responded, firing back at him with his own handful of grass. 

Then, they were engaged in grass-to-grass combat, giggling like school children. 

They laughed. They danced. They sung. They lost themselves to the dimension, but they did not surrender to it. They flew with its skies, rolled in its flowers, and breathed its rosemary air. All of their cares in the universe washed away, replaced with a jubilant euphoria that ignited their hearts. 

The day lasted for an hour, it seemed, as soon they were resting against the hill and gazing at the amethyst sunset. But whether it was two days, two hours, or two months, they were just glad they could finally spend it together. 

It wasn’t perfect, Stephen thought. In a few weeks, they’d be bickering and squabbling over the dumbest of things. There would be nights where he wondered why he fell in love with him or why he was putting up with his arrogance. That’s what always came with two stubborn assholes entering a relationship. 

But now, it was just them basking in the tranquility of a far off world. Maybe the fact that this moment was temporary was what made him glorify it. 

So bring on the depressing nights, the petty quarrels, the mismatched arguments. He was ready for them. He accepted them. This moment wasn’t a dream -- it was life. The way he leaned into Tony’s shoulder and stroked his head, the breathless frenzy after their lips met, the way they played like young teenagers without a care in the world. It was all entirely, perfectly, real. 

“I love you,” Tony whispered, falling in between Stephen’s head and neck. 

Stephen replied with a soft kiss on his forehead, before dropping into his hair with a sweet “I love you” in response. 

Nothing was perfect -- but everything was real. 


End file.
